


a penny for the lost ones

by Victorionious



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hawke is nonbinary, Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 10:04:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6700510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victorionious/pseuds/Victorionious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bloodstained grass and ash all he left behind, Nathaniel is amazed to reunite with an old friend. Joy gives way to sorrow, as not all is as it appears. </p><p>A slight AU of Dragon Age 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a penny for the lost ones

**Author's Note:**

> For more complete, spoilerrific warnings, please see the end note.
> 
> Hawke is nonbinary, in this, and uses they/them pronouns.
> 
> Enjoy!

A penny for the lost ones—

= 0 =

 _W_ _e are the hollow men_  
_We are the stuffed men_  
_Leaning together_  
_Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!_  
_Our dried voices, when_  
_We whisper together_  
_Are quiet and meaningless_  
_As wind in dry grass_  
_Or rats' feet over broken glass_ _  
In our dry cellar_

= I =

Hands clasped close to a chest, dead man leaning over dying – whispers exchanged, a tearful nod, a flash of light as one body stops breathing and another falls.

He opens his eyes, a crackle of blue through the night. The men around him are already dead – _it is just_ – a voice, his voice, now, whispers through his mind. The corpse beside him festers, empty, as it should have been. The corpse he dwells in now – the heart still beats, lungs still breathe, but the spirit of Justice was too late.

All is quiet as it burns.

= II =

It’s easy to fall into the same motions, Hawke a compelling force with a sense of right and wrong to rival even his own. The clinic doesn’t run itself, of course, but the assistants know how to keep things together whenever Hawke appears at the clinic’s door. There’s a pattern of interaction that he falls into easily, memories of another life taking hold, and maybe he lives in honor of those memories, a little bit, gives the name the body once held, uses the skills its previous owner had near mastered. Hawke knows him by that unname, the adjective he’d used until all before it was almost forgotten – not to Justice, of course, to whom those memories were as available as an open book, but still.

= III =

When they found Howe, he knew it was going to fall apart. It had been a close enough call with Isabela, whose memories of him were thankfully restricted to his _fingers_ rather than his eyes. Karl had been a different matter entirely, and one he didn’t care to dwell on now. When it came to Nathaniel, Justice mused, there would be no escape.

“Anders,” the archer gasps as he catches sight of him, approaching. “We thought you were dead! And Justice-“ He freezes as their eyes meet, cold grey and… _lyrium blue_. “Justice.”

Justice slumps forward, leaning on his staff. “Yes,” he says. He’s considered this meeting many times, but it didn’t prepare him for the reality of it. Hawke stands back, a few paces away, watching the Wardens interact with confusion.

Nathaniel scrubs a hand down his face. “He _is_ dead, then?” he asks, glancing sidelong at the others.

“I was too late,” Justice admits. “I tried to save him, but, well. This is the best I could do, to keep him alive. To keep his memory alive.”

“You sound like him.” Howe’s voice has a longing note in it, but Justice ignores it. “Do they know?”

Justice shakes his head minutely as Hawke takes the question as an invitation. “Do we know _what?_ ”

Justice gives Hawke a disarming smile that is all Anders, and it strikes Nathaniel to the bone. “Warden business, I’m afraid,” he excuses. “I’ll explain what I can later. But me and my… former compatriot, here, need to have a… discussion. Privately, if you don’t mind.”

They do mind, but the mage and rogue walk off, deeper into the tunnels, anyway. They duck into a cleared out storage room, one with a thick, stone door, which Nathaniel closes after them, leaning heavily against it. Only then does his voice crack. “Anders is dead, but you’re wearing his face, his voice, his _life_ ,” Nate hisses. “What _happened_ , Justice? Why didn’t you come back to us – what _happened to him?_ ”

Justice sits on a crate. “Templars.” The single word is like a punch in the teeth for the archer. “They killed him. I killed them. I offered Anders myself, my energy, for him to take me in… as we’d discussed. He agreed but it was too late. He died, but I kept his heart beating.” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “It’s different, from how it was with Kristoff. The memories were faded, he was long dead. Anders… he was _right there_. And parts of him still are. I’m not a spirit anymore. Not a man either. I don’t know what I am.”

“You’re not him,” Nathaniel spits.

Justice winces. “I deserved that.”

Nathaniel lets out a yell and turns his back on Justice, resting his head against the cold stone of the door. _“Templars_ ,” he snarls, then drops to his knees with a hand bracing the door, breath coming in quick pants as tears spring to his eyes. “No, Justice, you didn’t deserve that. It’s just. His mannerisms. His face. His _fucking_ coat. I’m beginning to understand how Aura felt, what she must have seen, and Kristoff was half rotted. You’re… _whole_.”

Justice kneels next to him. “Hawke and the others know me only as Anders. There’s no one who knew him, before, here. Isabela and Anders met once, but it was… brief. I’ve been living as him. I don’t know if it is what he would have wanted, but I’m doing good, in his name, with his name. He will be remembered. I think he would have liked that.”

Nathaniel snorts. “All Anders wanted was freedom and a cat. He was selfish. And a brat. He didn’t care for fame. All he wanted was to live as he pleased. We’ve already failed him. There’s no honoring his memory.” He sighs and sits back on his heels, rubbing his eyes with his hands, unsurprised to find them wet. “He gave you his body, whether he knew he wasn’t going to make it or not. It’s yours now.”

“I tried to – There was a mage, a former lover of Anders’,” Justice confesses. “Anders wanted him freed, but he had already been made Tranquil. I woke him. There was something, because I am a spirit, there was a moment where he was himself once again. He saw _me_ , not Anders. I killed him at his request. He knew there was nothing more for him in this life. That was all that remained of Anders’ will. If I couldn’t free that one mage, then I will dedicate my time and the gift of this body to freeing as many as I can.”

Nathaniel lets out a breath, and twists to sit with his back to the door. “That’s a lofty goal, my friend. Do you plan to let your companions know?”

Justice shrugs, a human gesture, and it would have been so easy for Nathaniel to forget if he let himself. “I fear their reactions. The elf, especially. Well, one of them. He reminds me of Velanna, if you replace ‘shemlen’ with ‘mages.’ He suspects something, I believe, but he does not care enough to push the issue. The other elf, Merrill, would be delighted by the knowledge. I’d never get a moment’s rest.”

“And Hawke?”

“Hawke is…” Justice pauses. “A… distraction, in many ways. A great leader, a kind person… Hawke… understands.”

Nathaniel looks at him questioningly. The once-spirit lets out a low laugh. “Their father was an apostate. Their sister is as well, but she was recruited by the Wardens. My doing. She had the Blight sickness. I saw Stroud, but we didn’t have time to talk. I think he came to his own conclusions, be they correct or otherwise. I half expected the commander to come storming down not long thereafter, but your sister begging us to find you was the first I’d heard of the Wardens since.”

“You should tell them,” the archer insists. “They’ll find out one way or another. Better from you, especially with someone who knows you readily available. Someone who knew you both.”

Justice nods and stands up. “We should go back to them.” He holds out a hand to help Nathaniel up. Nathaniel takes it gratefully, and is surprised that it is warm and calloused, much as Anders’ hands once had been. He’s struck yet again with the truth and blinks rapidly. He pauses, and briefly cups the cheek that once belonged to Anders, though it still belongs to a friend. He blinks back tears, and takes a steadying breath.

“It’s funny,” he says, face screwed up. “I thought you were both dead all this time. I didn’t anticipate there being an option that was worse.”

Justice nods his understanding, and doesn’t let go of Nathaniel’s hand, even as they walk back to confront Justice’s party.

“Anders!” Hawke exclaims, running ahead to meet them. Isabela is back a few paces, arms around two separate wardens who were doing their best to remain stony faced, Fenris listening as another warden talked. They take in the wardens’ faces, then their still clasped hands, and stop a few paces before them. “Are you… alright?”

“I should like to talk to you, explain something, once we’re out of the tunnels,” Justice says quietly. “It’s not urgent, but it is…important.”

Hawke nods, eyes flitting from the mage to Nathaniel curiously. “I trust you.”

= IV =

“I may not have been entirely truthful with you, on all matters,” Justice begins, handing Hawke a steaming mug of tea. They are back in the clinic, Nathaniel lingering just outside the door with a promise to barge in if he hears shouting, but to wait in any other case. “Especially regarding my departure from the Wardens.”

Hawke snorts. “Sweetie, you didn’t tell me much about your departure from the Wardens, other than ‘I’m out and they’re probably going to come after me,’ then you were practically holding hands with Nathaniel. What’s going on?”

Justice sighs. “We were close, once. Perhaps it’s not as past-tense as I thought. But this is serious.” Hawke adopts a parody of a severe expression and Justice glares until they roll their eyes. “The Warden-Commander was a dear friend, but she had been called away to Weisshaupt, and in her place was… a monster. He recruited Templars, and while my commander was never the most apolitical, this man? He had a vendetta against the mages. Against me and one of my friends, especially.”

Justice laughs sardonically. “There was a man, Kristoff. A warden. He died, but in his body, a spirit of Justice was trapped. Not a demon, a spirit. The body was rotting, however, and very clearly inhuman. Nathaniel and… the spirit… had many discussions about what Justice should do, if he should switch bodies, even switch to a willing, living host, were that an option.”

“Wait,” Hawke interrupts. “Is that what the glowy-eye thing is? Are you possessed by this Justice spirit?”

He smiles. “In a manner of speaking.”

“What manner of speaking?”

“We and a group of the Templar Wardens were sent on a mission, but it was a set up. They attacked, and one of us didn’t survive.” He unclasps his robes, lets them fall, and pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, revealing a massive scar in his chest.

“It wasn’t Justice who fell,” Hawke whispers, raising their eyes from the twisted flesh to meet his. “Then, how –“

“Anders is dead,” Justice confesses in a low voice. “I tried to save him. If he took me into his body, I might’ve been able to supply the energy he needed, but it took too long, and he slipped away even as I slipped inside. I have his memories, his face, even some of his personality has _changed_ me. I was not always…” He shakes his head. “I am sorry I misled you. I wanted… someone to remember him.”

Tears streak down Hawke’s face, and they take his hand in one of theirs. “I’m not angry,” they say quickly. “But I never knew him, then. I don’t know how I feel about this, but you… _Justice_ , you are my friend. I believe you.”

“Nathaniel cannot bear to see me like this,” he admits with a nervous laugh.

Hawke lifts a hand to his cheek. “Nathaniel knew you both before. I only know you as you are. Thank you for sharing yourself with me.”

Justice chuckles again, but it sounds more like a sob. “I was very afraid to. I am sorry. You are strong, and kind, and just, and I have been unworthy. It was not just to keep this from you.”

Hawke shakes their head softly, and presses their forehead against Justice’s. “Are you still a spirit?” they ask. “Bethany has spoken of spirits, and I’ve met demons, but none have seemed so… human… as you.”

“I’ve been away from the Fade too long,” Justice whispers, letting his eyes slide shut. “Kristoff was long since dead, a rotting corpse even as I walked in him. I left him through sheer power of will. Anders… this body is alive, there’s pieces of him… I’m not human, never will be, but I’m not… what I once was. Nathaniel says I sound like him, that there are mannerisms. I knew not of self-deprecation until I breathed with his lungs.” He opens his eyes again, fade blue reflecting from Hawke’s. “I am not what I once was,” he repeats, looking down.

Hawke strokes his hair gently. “I’m sorry for the loss of your friend,” they say. “I’m sorry for the loss of your home. I know a thing or two about both of those things, and no matter what plane of existence it was, it still hurts just the same. If you ever want to talk about him, I would like to hear it.”

Justice smiles. “I would like that. Nathaniel,” he calls, gently pulling away from Hawke’s embrace. “You can come in, now. Hawke would like to talk about… about Anders.”

Nathaniel enters the room, clearly having listened to most of their conversation. Eyes to the floor, he sits next to Justice on the cot, and puts his hand on his thigh, gripping softly, just a reminder of his presence.

They are silent for a moment, not daring to break the atmosphere they’ve created.

“I still have his cat,” Nathaniel murmurs, making eye contact with the wall behind Hawke’s shoulder. “My sister is looking after him right now.”

“I never understood it,” Justice admits. “I can feel… the memories, the love and affection of the creature but I still don’t understand it. I compared it to slavery once.”

“I bet he took that well,” Nathaniel says with a chuckle.

Justice shakes his head. “There was some cursing. I see now that I was remarkably incorrect. If anyone was enslaved, it was _Anders_ , to the whims of that feline menace.”

Hawke laughs. “What’s his name?”

“Ser Pounce-A-Lot,” Justice informs them, rolling his eyes. “The mage was fond of such strange naming conventions. He called himself by an adjective, there was another cat known as Mr. Wiggums - though he was not responsible for that one. I daresay he’d approve of Blondie, let alone _Sparklefingers_.”

“An adjective?”

“You didn’t think his name was really Anders, did you?” Nathaniel snorts. “I might as well call myself Ferelden, or Justice, here, _Fade_.”

Hawke blinks. “I hadn’t ever thought about it.” They pause, then gingerly ask, “What do you wish to be called, now that I understand the situation further? If Anders is what you wish, then I will continue it. If not, I won’t question you.”

Justice stares at them, hand rising to catch Nathaniel’s once again, folding their fingers together. “I… would like to be called Justice, where possible. It… I am not Anders. I could never be. I shouldn’t have…”

“You were trying to honor him,” Nathaniel says simply.

Justice shakes his head. “I did a poor job of it.”

Hawke nods. “Would you like me to explain the truth to the others, Justice?”

Nathaniel frowns, but lets Justice answer. “I… would. Ideally, I would. But I fear the reaction of, well-”

“Fenris?” Hawke finishes with a wry grin. “He’s prickly, and he’s prickly about mages. He won’t harm you.”

“I thank you.”

The three talk deep into the night, trading stories of the blond whose face Justice wears. The more time spent with him, the more Nathaniel sees both the differences and the similarities, and begins to wonder if Anders is really as dead as he seems. He knows the answer, he does, but seeing Justice laugh… there’s so much of Anders that lives on, even if Anders himself is long gone.

= V =

_This is the dead land_

_This is cactus land_

_Here the stone images_

_Are raised, here they receive_

_The supplication of a dead man's hand_

_Under the twinkle of a fading star._

**Author's Note:**

> Its revealed fairly quickly, but if you're concerned, this fic takes place in an AU where Anders was killed by Templars, possessed by Justice in an attempt to save him, but it didn't work. Justice was left possessing his body, much like the situation with Kristoff, only Anders' body is still functioning. The closeness of his life, his memory, has changed Justice, much the way that Compassion became Cole. While Justice has not adopted Anders' identity the way Cole did, he has changed in many ways. 
> 
> Quotes are from "The Hollow Men" by T.S. Eliot. 
> 
> This might not be the end, I haven't decided yet. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this hell AU!!


End file.
